


Melody

by RemindMeWhoIAm



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: Ballet, Established Relationship, F/M, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Introspection, Originally Posted on Tumblr
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-23
Updated: 2018-02-23
Packaged: 2019-03-22 18:29:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13769994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RemindMeWhoIAm/pseuds/RemindMeWhoIAm
Summary: He walks in on a sight both odd and beautiful.





	Melody

**Author's Note:**

> A little bit of self-indulgent Hancock stuff I wrote a little while ago in response to a Tumblr prompt. Set in the same universe as the Lawyer, General, Vigilante series, though it can stand alone. Enjoy, comments/kudos always appreciated and hoarded like a dragon with a disorder.

    Hancock took a long drag off his cigarette, holding the smoke in his lungs for a moment before letting it out in a long gray stream.  It was a warm night, the air heavy with a recent rain that had hung over the Commonwealth for most of the afternoon.  He’d stood in the same spot as now, waiting for her to come back, smoking through a full pack before that familiar flash of blue cut through the gloom on the edges of south Boston, just in walking distance of the Castle.

    They’d agreed to meet back at the Castle three days before, parting with a chaste kiss under the eaves of some ratty abandoned building, a safe enough distance from Goodneighbor and the Old North Church.  She disappeared with the press of a button on her Pip-Boy, whisked away to a place he could only imagine, a place where her son was and where he wasn’t welcome.  He’d hoped that, with time, it would bother him less, but each time she left, it still wrenched his gut.  She never came back in a good mood; she always seemed exhausted and worn down, despondent, listless.  However long she was gone, it usually took twice as long for her to start eating and sleeping normally again, though it seemed that each trip still took a little part of her away.

    He wanted to tell her to stop going, to stop doing something that was so obviously destroying her, but it was her fucking kid.  Even if he was old and emotionally bankrupt, he was still her flesh and blood and Hancock wasn’t _that_ big of a dick.  He may not have understood the relationship, but he knew Nora loved Shaun and was doing her best to make it work.  He’d already shoved her husband out of the picture; he wasn’t going to get greedy and take away her kid, too.

    Hancock sighed and sucked down the last centimeters of his cigarette, tossing the spent butt into a nearby bucket and turning away.  He trudged down the stairs into the dark hallways of the Castle, barely acknowledging the Minutemen he passed as he headed toward the General’s quarters.  It had been a quiet day that devolved into a quiet night, Minutemen radio’s mournful violin playing with barely an interruption for hours.  He silently wished for an interruption, an attack, a horde of mutants or gang of raiders to come crashing toward them.

    Something, anything to take his mind of the stupid Institute and some stupid old man he’d never met.

    The lights in her room were turned low; he could see orange lantern light spilling out of the door she’d left propped open.  The radio echoed in here; she must have it playing on her Pip-Boy, too.  He took a breath and tried to plaster a smile on his face, but froze when he saw her through the door.

    She was dancing.

    She had told him about her old love for some lost art she called _ballet_ , once pointed out a woman on a faded poster wearing a stiff, weird skirt and balancing on her toes, but he’d never seen her dance.  Not like this, at least.

    She’d stripped to an oversized shirt and underwear, red hair in a bun at the back of her head, standing with her back to him.  She extended one long, lithe leg out straight, toes pointed, back ramrod straight.  As he watched, she lifted the leg higher, swinging it back and twirling, muscles flexing as she moved.

    It was strange, but oddly mesmerizing, the way she moved around the large room, back curving, arms held aloft, dipping and swaying as the violin music rose and fell.  Occasionally she lifted on bandaged toes and faltered, but kept going.  It wasn’t anything he ever would have called “dance”, but in the small glimpses of her face he got as she twirled, he could see a rare peacefulness.  

    The music cut off abruptly to announce the hour, startling them both.  He jumped a little just as her leg buckled under her and she landed with a soft smack on the concrete floor.

    “Shit,” she muttered, sitting back and rubbing one ankle.

    “Ya’ alright, Sunshine?”

    She looked up sharply and narrowed her eyes. “How long have you been there?”

    “Not long,” he said, striding over and holding out a handle to help her up.  She hauled herself to feet and limped toward the bed.

    “Got to see my mediocre performance, huh,” she said, not looking at him as she sat down and yanked her hair out of the bun.

    “Didn’t seem mediocre to me,” he replied, sitting next to her.  She gave him a wry smile.

    “I’m more than a little out of practice.”

    “Still looked good.”

    Her smile softened the tiniest bit as she took a deep breath and let it out in a sigh. “I used to be really good,” she said.  She was contemplating her feet, head cocked a bit. Hancock followed her gaze but said nothing.  Her feet were small and bony, crossed with prominent blue veins and dotted with calluses.  She didn’t take good care of them, slapping duct tape over blisters and walking on massive bruises and hard sprains.

    “I was always good at everything I did,” she said softly, “Not trying to brag -- stuff just came naturally to me.  Dance, practicing law…”

    He sensed a “but” and waited to see if she’d continue.  She didn’t, instead shaking her head and scooting farther onto the bed so she could lean over and rummage through the nightstand on the other side.

    “Are we out of Med-X?”

    “Guess so,” Hancock replied nonchalantly.  There had actually been two full vials in the drawer that afternoon, but he’d smuggled them out and dumped them in the clinic before she came back.  He hated how easy it had become to lie to her about it and while he was sure she suspected him most days, she never said anything.

    “Use a stim,” he said, “In the bottom drawer.”

    She made a small noise of irritation but acquiesced.  Minutemen Radio was playing again, a more upbeat melody this time.  Nora leaned against him and closed her eyes.  After a moment, he could hear her humming along.

    “Dance for me,” he said, nudging her a bit.  She looked up, brows drawn together skeptically.

    “You really want to see me stumble around like that?”

    What he wanted, he didn’t say, was to see that peace in her face.  That lack of care, the openness and freedom that made his chest tight with how beautiful she looked.  He wanted to see her do something that wasn’t work or chems or worrying.

    “Yeah,” he answered, smiling at her. “I wanna see those awesome legs in action.  Gives me ideas.”

    She rolled her eyes good-naturedly and stood. “Only until the next hourly check-in.”

    “Plenty of time to plan what I’d like to do to you.”

    “Pervert.”

    “Only for my sunshine.”

    She smiled and rose on tip-toes, whirling away from him with a flip of red hair as the melody continued on.


End file.
